


not your high school yearbook

by fated_addiction



Series: gold medals are for babies [1]
Category: A Pink (Band), BTOB, GOT7, Girl's Day (Band), K-pop, KARA (Band), Red Velvet (K-pop Band), 룸메이트 | Roommate (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 17:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4108723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated_addiction/pseuds/fated_addiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Namjoo usually says it best anyway: "The moral of the story? Just don't drink at weddings."</p>
            </blockquote>





	not your high school yearbook

**Author's Note:**

> So this. This? This was only meant to be some kind of cute drabble and it kind of got away from me and became and an entire universe all by itself. So there's that. This is, however, a stand alone request in itself; I might dabble in some other stories from this AU 'verse though with other couples. Anyways, as always, filling a tumblr request for that cool AU meme floating around.
> 
> Thanks for reading. ^^

The lawyer's office is an insurance policy. Namjoo usually says it best anyway: "The moral of the story? Just don't drink at weddings."

But she's getting ahead of herself.

"We're strangers," Youngji says, and bluntly, maybe too bluntly, since the man in front of her raises his hands. She shrugs. "I can't pretend it didn't happen. Because it did --" her face heats and she looks away, down to her hands folded across her lap. "I just want to be protected. I want this to be fair."

Kim Heechul leans across his desk, pushing a file towards her. He hands her a card. His contact information is written on the back, even though she has it memorized by now.

"Hara said not to let you jump into things," he says. He grins a little. Her eyes narrow. "And she said she'd kill me first if I let you sign anything without thinking about it."

"I've thought about it," she mutters. 

He raises an eyebrow. "Think about it some more. I can't die. I'm too cute and the head of a pretty lucrative firm, you know."

" _Oppa_."

He stands, moving around to the front of the desk. She ignores his gaze and she takes the file, slipping it into her bag. She sighs, then winces as she straightens out in the chair. Her feet are definitely swollen, she thinks sourly. It's not good. She has too much work to do.

Behind Heechul, a giant print sits against the wall. It's hers. It was taken in Jeju Island, in a little coffee shop and on a trip that she took years ago. She is mostly known for both her urban shots and international print coverage and prefers the city to silence of the mountains or any sort of beach spread.

"Go home," he says. Heechul reaches forward, ruffling her hair. "Read the paperwork and call me tomorrow -- _before_ you decide on making some kind of announcement. So Hara doesn't murder me, revive me, then murder me again because she thinks it's my fault. When are you due again?"

Her hand presses against her belly. "Christmas," she says.

It's too long story of a story to start.

 

 

 

 

 

There is no alcohol to blame. At first, of course. Alcohol is also the best kind of lie. It certainly _helps_. It's probably easier to blame the metallic arrangement that happened to call itself an engagement invitation, but none of them tell that to Joy -- girl code and friendship solidarity or something like that.

"He's been staring you at all night."

"Who?" she asks.

Her friend nods her head towards the bar. "That guy," she says and Youngji groans. "Seriously, it's been all night."

Seulgi offers her a glass of champagne too. This one actually bubbles and is probably slightly more expensive, considering that the mother of the groom just informed them all that now since the relatives that she DIDN'T like had left, they could now actually enjoy the good stuff.

"Rich people," she mutters, amused.

Seulgi blinks. "What?"

"I was just thinking about Joy's in-laws." Both girls turn their gaze to their friend in question, who is safely nestled against her boyfriend, Sungjae. Who happens to be the CEO of a billion dollar tech company. But this isn't about that. "As crazy as they are," she muses, "they seem to love her."

"They're probably terrified of her mother," Seulgi says dryly. "Or thought Hyeri was serious when she told that story about how Joy comes from a family of really famous gangsters."

Youngji laughs. "No one really denies it either."

They have all been friends for years. Seulgi and Youngji grew up in the same neighborhood and were best friends first, but that quickly expanded in middle school to include Joy and Hyeri, and then it was high school that gave them Namjoo, who rounded out their close group.

No one is surprised that Joy is the first to be getting married or the fact that the youngest of them is a kindergarten teacher -- Hyeri has been swearing all night that this is some kind of conspiracy. The surprise is that it's Sungjae, who is of course charming and incredibly charismatic, but seems so far from Joy's type that none of them can put their finger on as to why.

"He's staring!"

Youngji jumps when Seulgi hits her, spilling champagne of her dress. She groans.

"Seriously?" 

Seulgi waves a hand. "There's a bathroom by the bar. Ask for seltzer. It'll come right off -- but seriously, the guy is staring and now POINTING at you. You should go talk to him."

"I'm not a sims character, you know."

"Shut up," her friend says, pushing her forward. 

She's two glasses ahead of her anyway and Youngji pretends to humor her, moving straight to the bar to where the man who is watching her is presumably sitting. She orders a seltzer, picking up a bar napkin and wiping off some of the residual champagne.

There's a cough next to her. Then: "Hey can you hurry with the seltzer -- she's rubbing hard enough to peel her fingers off."

Youngji blinks and turns her head. 

"I --" She frowns. "I am not." Her hand pauses. "Why are you staring at my boobs?"

He splutters, his face turning red. She watches him rub the back of his head.

"I am NOT looking at your boobs. I just thought -- my mom's really clumsy too sometimes. She has tricks to get stuff out of clothes and --"

"So you're calling me clumsy and staring at my boobs," Youngji says.

He groans and turns. Over his shoulder, she spots another group standing by the corner. She can see some of them laughing. What is it, she thinks, about engagement parties that regress people back into their high school selves? She half expects to receive some kind of note that says DO YOU LIKE ME IF SO PLEASE CHECK THE YES BOX because that would be pretty appropriate.

"At least tell me your name," she says, taking pity on the guy. "We'll start over."

She drops the napkin. He offers his hand.

"Jackson," he says. "Friend of the groom. We were in a band together in high school. Or tried to be, at least."

Youngji laughs. "Youngji," she offers, taking his hand. "Heo Youngji. Friend of the bride." Her lips twitch and she smiles, champagne stickiness forgotten for the moment. "Actually in the wedding party too," she says.

"You're really cute," Jackson blurts and it's stupid, but this is how it starts.

Seriously.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

They talk all night. It's a roundabout way of saying that Youngji is happy to escape the party, find the empty garden area, and just listen to the party, especially when it's the particular part of the party where the adults of the family leave and some idiot friend of the bride or groom decides it would be funny to start drinking games and set it to music, the kind with too much bass that eventually evolves into drunken karaoke.

Jackson somehow convinces her -- well... not really convinces her, let's be honest, but they are in the middle of an argument about the chances that the Lakers have in the semi-finals only because he found out that she went to game this year since she was in LA for business. 

"Apparently it's Kobe's last season next year," he tells her. "I want to see a game."

"So go see a game," she says and at the same time, he reaches forward, pushing her hair away from her face, blurting: "You have _really_ pretty eyes."

She's not used to anyone being forward with her. Her friends are the gorgeous ones and whether that's a self-confidence thing, she'll argue at another time, the point is that she's about ready to jump out of her skin and then her brain moves onto the things she actually notices: his hands, they're deceivingly soft, a little callused and she wonders if he does work with his hands. She tries not to blush.

"So you were staring at my boobs," she says dryly and means it, shying away from meeting his gaze. She's had another glass of champagne somewhere between the seltzer water, learning his name, and one more when he told her about how he's from Hong Kong and lives in Seoul for about half the year.

"Yeah," he admits and she laughs delightedly. His face is red. "Your legs are hot too. 

"Well, thank you?"

His eyes narrow. "You don't believe me?"

"I don't know." She reaches for her champagne glass and gets a little bit of a head rush. She notices her heels in the grass. Maybe she is drunker than she wants to admit. "I mean," she reason, "it's really nice to hear. But I don't know you very well, Wang --" she giggles, covering her mouth, "Jackson. Dude who is drunker than I am." That last part though, it's kind of a mess and comes out of her mouth sounding like instead, "-- dude-who-is-DRUNKERthan-I-am."

"I have a sword," he says.

She breaks out into laughter and the head rush is harder than the first one. Yeah, okay, OKAY she totally had more champagne than she let on. Not that she had to report to anyone, but Youngji has always been a happy drunk and a _forgetful_ drunk.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," she quips.

He frowns. "I'm serious though," he says and she laughs harder, her head dropping against his shoulder. The bench they are sitting on is a lot smaller than she remembers. 

"I think I'm drunk," she says. "I don't feel it though."

This is how she comes into her awareness. She's flushed, of course, and the champagne stain on her dress has now MOVED dead center, right against the stretch of fabric that rests and cuts into her breasts. No wonder, she thinks and she looks up at him, peering at him under her lashes.

"I'm drunk," he says, " and you're still stupidly pretty and I don't understand how, like, you don't know that you're pretty."

Youngji pokes his nose. She laughs when it wrinkles.

"I don't exactly wear signs."

"Might as well," he mutters, and she hits him. "Yah! I'm serious," he says.

"I'm not drunk enough," she says.

Somehow, this is where it makes sense to steal a bottle of champagne from the bar.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

What happens next is fragmented because she's drunk and dizzy, he's drunk, and really, oh god, she can only, ONLY focus on the taste of his mouth.

Youngji knows that his name is Jackson. He's a friend of the groom. He never told her how or why other than the high school band story which, by the way, she never in a million years has ever believed when a guy tells her that story.

But he's really, REALLY good with his hands.

She will remember the way the grass felt against her back, the way it sunk against her hip and her neck and the exposed skin from the cutout of her dress. She feels it stain the back of her legs as she wraps one of her legs around his hip and he bites her, actually bites down at her mouth, sucking at her lip as if to taste her too.

Her hands rip the back of his jacket and he laughs into her mouth, his tongue sliding over hers and there's this taste of alcohol, chocolate, and something unabashedly that seems like him even though she's only known him for two hours, maybe three. 

There's a breeze and it's weirdly quiet, between the breeze, the murmurings and the music and the party, and his hands move to push against her hips as he settles inside of her.

A thousand different things happen in her head. She sees sparks. She feels too much. She's eager and then she's not. It's like everything she's ever wanted to NOT feel in one insanely complicated moment.

At best, later, this is what she really remembers:

His mouth is hot. She's tight. 

She lets her teeth marks sink against the column of his throat because all she wants to say is mine, mine, _mine_.

They won't see each other again, she thinks.

The empty bottle stands up in the grass behind them.

 

 

 

 

Three weeks later, Namjoo hosts a hangover brunch at her apartment.

It's appropriate because they always do things famously late. Hyeri burns the potatoes. Joy brings flowers. Seulgi picks Youngji up from the airport because the last hangover brunch, Seulgi nearly set Namjoo's kitchen on fire and has yet to be forgive for that date.

"So you slept with the Olympian. I almost called him an Olympic hopefully, but that was four years ago," Hyeri says, passing her the orange juice. Youngji's eyes are wide and Joy laughs, adding: "That doesn't mean anything, eonni. I just said that Jackson asked Sungjae-oppa about you."

Her face is on fire by now and her best friends are in different ranges of accusatory teasing, eyes wide and loud, excited chatter because Youngji has NEVER kissed and told anyone about any of her boyfriends, almost boyfriends, or variations of the two.

She groans, burying her face in her hands. "There wasn't even a morning after," she mutters, pushing her plate forward. She's starting to feel sick again. 

"So it happened!" Hyeri grins, clapping in delight. She leans forward on her elbows. "Was he good? He's in peak shape. They say he's going to win the gold this year."

"You slept with him," Joy says, surprised. "Apparently, we're also responsible for Lizzy-eonni and Eunkwang --"

Seulgi's eyes are wide. "Oh my god. The grass stains!" She hits Namjoo, who is grinning too. "We were wondering about the grass stains. Eunkwang-oppa is stupidly awkward."

"I hate _all_ of you," she breathes.

This isn't like her. She usually can't hold a boyfriend to begin with. She gets busy. She has a job she loves. She puts her family at the top of the list and will, if anything, drop everything if her mother needs help at the coffee shop even though she never asks.

She groans then, dropping her head in her arms and pushing her plate away. The smell is almost unbearable as it is. It's not that Namjoo is a bad cook either; the other girl has made it her 'stressless hobby' as she calls it, between working long hours as an announcer and her travel blog which, somehow, is an accidental hit and favorite of a lot of people.

"You like eggs," Namjoo says, frowning.

Youngji shakes her head. "I'm not hungry," she says awkwardly. "They're just --"

She peers up, only making the mistake of looking at the eggs. They're runny. She likes her eggs runny. But suddenly, it hits her how gross they look, the yolk bleeding into the bacon and the hash and even the heart-shaped toast and tomatoes Joy made with some of her new kitchenware gifts.

She's up, running away from the table and then down the hall to Namjoo's bathroom. She hears Seulgi call her name and then there's Hyeri's: "Aw, damn -- she's pregnant, isn't she?" because of COURSE Hyeri loves her dramas and immediately would go there.

She's not hungover either. She went to bed at nine last night, after getting off a flight from Tokyo because of a business trip. She hasn't really had anything to drink since --

"Oh, _god_."

Her hands curl around the toilet and she throws up.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

"So you peed on a stick."

Humiliated, Youngji pulls the rest of the afghan over her head. She wonders if she can strangle herself.

"That's what you do, idiot," Hyeri tells Joy. "Pregnancy tests are so archaic anyway."

Seulgi's fingers are in her hair, brushing her bangs back from her face. Youngji is shaking, not so much from the sudden onslaught of stress. Is she pregnant? Does she have the flu? She should really go to the hospital.

"I know what a pregnancy is," Joy mutters, rolling her eyes. Youngji peeks out from the blanket. Her head moves to rest on Seulgi's lap and Joy shifts, sitting on the floor and smiling at her softly. "It's going to be okay," she says gently.

"I can't even think about that." Her voice is muffled and she turns her head into Seulgi's knee. "I am such an idiot. I'm a HUGE idiot."

"You should go to the doctor," Joy tries to calm her down. "Peeing on a stick --"

"She's pregnant," Namjoo interrupts them, moving to sit on her coffee table. She holds up the stick and sure enough, the bold, pink line is very present and wet. Namjoo wrinkles her nose, tossing it over a pile of magazines. "And we can take a family trip to the doctor's if you want. But it's Saturday and we'd have to go to the hospital and it might be worth to convince the media that Hyeri's secretly pregnant or something. Older boyfriend or whatever."

Hyeri flashes a victory sign. "I've always wanted to act," she teases.

Youngji listens to them quietly, but the reality is overturning itself in her head. She can piece together the rational edges of it -- she slept with a man, thought nothing of it, they were both drunk, they are BOTH responsible, and then suddenly, here she is three weeks out with a potential pregnancy on her head.

According to a drug store test, that is. One that she actually _peed_ on.

A low, almost startled groan leaves her mouth as both hands cover her mouth. She starts to shudder and vaguely, faintly, is aware of Seulgi saying something _oh god she's going to vomit_ again. She doesn't though. She brings her knees to her chest, even though she's surrounded by the people that she loves the most, and tries and makes herself small, impossibly small, as if it were going to make everything go away.

She was supposed to forget about it, forget his name, maybe accidentally run into him at the wedding, with a date, be embarrassed and think something like _oh damn, he was cute_ and move on with her life, her friends, and everything in between. But there's such a pain in her body, that curls inside of her and pushes at her throat. It's then that she realizes that she's crying, like really crying, and her body is moving with her into these deep, bone tearing sobs.

There is a mouth on her forehead. Her best friend's lips are soft and she breathes with her, letting someone else take her hand.

"You should probably google him," Seulgi says.

 

 

 

 

 

So. The plan of attack.

There is none. (She totally googled him though. THAT'S embarrassing.)

So right. Okay. Remember that her small group of friends consists of Joy, who literally has everyone eating out of the palm of her hand and is getting _married_ ; there is Namjoo, both beautiful and popular, who has sworn off men because, and she quotes, "if I want have a drink and some cheap ramen, I'll find it myself!"; Hyeri has literally been the quoted face for getting military men through their service and loves love, but doesn't seem interested in anything but her friends and career (they all swear that she's secretly dated someone before and that he was older, but she didn't tell them because Hyeri has her secrets, of course) and then there's Seulgi, of course, who is busy writing about romance, turns out a year drama rating success, and will DENY to her grave about being in love with her latest lead actor.

So no, absolutely not, she can't even ask any of them what to do because none of her girls will give her the right answer or even attempt to placate her with something that she wants to hear. Instead, she calls her publicist Hara, who in turn, calls Jackson's and they are meeting in her mother's coffee shop.

It's not a plan at all and if it were one, it sucks. Totally sucks. And yes, she's not an idiot -- she totally googled him.

She's also totally pregnant.

"Should I send you a signal?" her mother teases her, bring tea to the table. "If I like him or not."

Youngji feels so guilty for doing this, right here, right underneath her mother's nose. She hasn't said anything to her yet and can't even bring herself to tell her, even if she's always told her mother everything and without regret too.

It just feels different.

"Nah," she says weakly. She flashes a smile. "We're not in a weekend drama, you know."

Her mother laughs, kisses her cheek, and waves her off, returning to the front of the store.

Youngji's mind begins to wander again. She pastes her gaze to the window, studying the streets. The shop is in Hongdae, in this cute, little corner between a bakery and a camera shop. Her mother picked the location so she could be close to both Youngji and her sister when they were in university. Is she going to be like that too, she wonders.

The light is a little too warm against the window though and with April here, she smiles a little at the flowers, the colors, and her fingers kind of itch to pull her camera out of her bag and take some pictures. Maybe she should wander later, she thinks.

"Hey."

She jumps, looking up. Her eyes widen. Her heart curls into her throat and she takes Jackson in, sans the loud music of the engagement party and the high flittered, glossy photos she found of him on the internet.

"You're an Olympian," she states. He grins, amused and sits without asking. She leans forward, smoothing her dress over her knees. "I looked you up," she confesses immediately and reaches for her tea.

He shrugs. "I told you that."

An angry flush hits her face. "I was drunk," she mutters. "And so were you," she says. "You talked a lot about my legs. And boobs."

He shrugs again and she wants to hit him. "I remember that," he replies. He smirks. "No regrets either."

Youngji studies him, trying to find the man she saw in the photos, the serious athlete that everyone lauds as the second coming of classic athletes, or something -- she can't remember the headline. But when he sits in front of her, the lights hit his face and she realizes just how young he looks and how, somehow, she feels like she's coming face to face with herself.

"I'm pregnant," she says.

It just drops. He freezes, mid-standing. She didn't notice. Maybe he was going to go and get coffee or tea. She wonders if he likes one more than the other.

"I'm going to keep the baby," she says, looking down. Her bangs cover eyes. "I'm not good at secrets. In fact, I'm terrible at that. I had about seven different ways I was going to say this to you and then --" she pauses, nodding towards her mother at the counter, "my mom," she finishes. "Because I hate lying to her."

He sits, wide-eyed.

"You're pregnant," he repeats. His mouth thins. His hands curl into fists on the table. He doesn't hit anything, but he's visibly tensing. It so strange to watch, she thinks vaguely. "I don't --"

"I don't want anything from you," she says.

Jackson glares at her. "That's not what I was going to say."

"No," she says quietly, "but I'm sure you were going to go there at some point."

It's not fair to say. It's not even fair to think. They're strangers and it feels clumsy. She's terrified and she hasn't even thought everything through at all.

She picks at the fabric of her dress. She looks back to the window and rubs her eyes.

"I looked you up too," he says, after awhile. There is a weight to his voice. "Your work is amazing. You go to some pretty dangerous places too."

He's talking about her year in Iraq, she realizes, and the time she did some work with National Geographic. She's embarrassed and suddenly shy, looking down at her hands as if it were easier to hide this way.

"I have a show tomorrow night," she says.

And an appointment with a lawyer in the morning, she doesn't say.

Things that she's learned about him: he's not just an athlete, a competitive fencer, and an OLYMPIAN. He splits time between Seoul and Hong Kong. His parents were athletes too. She knows that family is important to him; she watched about nine of his interviews on the internet. He's a little aggressive which, well, she kind of hates that she likes. It makes him honest.

He asks questions about her photography and genuinely curious to know where she's been, what languages she speaks, and why, if anything, did she decide to do this. 

Neither of them say the word. Baby.

"I'm going to do the right thing," he says, quietly, just as he finishes the rest of his coffee. He looks over his shoulder, then turns, if anything to watch her mother work. "If you're worried," he asks.

"I am," she answers. She rubs her eyes. "Just not about that."

She doesn't mention that her mother has been watching them for the last hour. She doesn't mention that she can practically feel the concern written on her mother's face. She did, after all, say that this was nothing more than some kind of blind date -- the worst ever, really.

"I want kids," she says dryly. She meets his gaze. His mouth twitches, but he doesn't say anything. "I mean, I know you can't really plan these things but I wanted to have the opportunity to, I guess. I also am worried about the kind of stress that this is going to put on my mom." Her mouth purses. "And your parents," she murmurs.

He shakes his head. "Let me worry about that."

"Doesn't mean I won't though."

Jackson laughs a little. Then, suddenly, he's reaching out for her. He takes her hand, his fingers curling around her palm. He studies it. He weighs it. She's left watching him this way, almost fascinated. She doesn't know what to do with being this close to him this way; it's comfortable, of course, and weirdly, she's not prone to panic. There's something about him that just settles her.

A sigh escapes her mouth. He pulls her hand closer, forcing her to lean over the table.

"I'm terrified."

He nods. "Me too."

"I know nothing about you," she says. Her voice sounds small. She hates that. He keeps watching her, waiting. He's patient too. It's strange and disconnecting. She doesn't know what she was expecting either. Maybe this is just shock.

"We'll have to learn," he says. He shrugs.

It becomes so inexplicably real in this moment. His hand in hers. The coffee shop. Her mother just around the corner.

They are having a baby.

Youngji wants to cry.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

(Her mother cries when they tell her, not because she's upset -- she's worried. She's worried about her. She's worried about about Jackson and yes, of course, this is never what I wanted for you. It's the right reaction. It's shaky. It's heated. But then her mother takes them both in her arms and all Youngji can think is that she still feels like a little girl. _This is it._ )

 

 

 

 

 

In a series of events that she'd rather not talk about (Hyeri still asks), they tell her mother first, of course, and her sister after, they tell his parents, they talk more to Heechul and Hara TOGETHER (Heechul makes her bring him the second time she sees him AND because he's the worst and asks for an autograph immediately) because they are both active publicly, and they keep it to immediate friends because Youngji refuses to overshadow Joy's wedding.

She has a gallery show the weekend he decides to fly his parents in from Hong Kong. He has some trials for the Olympics and, he explains, they've never missed a match. He doesn't say things like _I want them to know you_.

"We'll go out to dinner after," he says over the phone. They talk a lot. "I know you said you wanted to go meet them at home, but, like, my mom wants to meet you and I think you'd be more comfortable doing it here."

She's touched. It doesn't help her anxiety, but she's touched and agrees and suddenly, his parents are going to be at one of her gallery shows.

Jackson does that a lot.

Seulgi stops by the gallery that afternoon first, bringing her a change of clothes and a tea because her doctor told her she needed to cut back on the caffeine. It's weird and gross and incredibly mind-boggling to know that her body is going through these changes and she can't control any of it. Despite what Jackson says, she feels ten times more awkward because she has BOOBS and her belly is starting to show. She's still active. She hikes. She lets the girls drag her outside and on their adventures. Jackson's even started to teach her to fence.

Weird, right?

"So," Seulgi hangs her the tea. She hangs up the dress over an empty table. She turns and leans against it, studying some of her photographs. "Are you, like, dating?"

Youngji sighs. "I wouldn't call it that. Maybe, uh, co-existing?"

"You're going to be parents," she says. 

"We're slowly getting to know each other." Youngji rubs her eyes and studies her dress. It's short and airy. She's wearing sneakers, much to the dismay of her mother and Hyeri. "I think that's where it makes the most sense now."

Seulgi shakes her head. "I don't get it," she admits.

"I feel like I'm still in some kind of shock," she says quietly. "I can't talk about it. I feel so guilty when I look at my mom. She's happy and worried and scared for me -- it's just a mess in my head and I don't feel like I've disappointed her, but then I do --"

Youngji bursts into tears. Because that happens. Not a lot, but it does. Her hand covers her face and Seulgi, already used to this, leans around the table, grabbing her by the hand. She kisses her forehead and wraps her arms around her.

"I can get you chocolate."

Youngji's nose wrinkles. "I can't. All I want --" she hiccups, rubbing her face into the other girl's shoulder, "is salty meats and that's so, so, SO weird and bad for me."

"Well. For sure, the peanut's yours."

Selugi gently pulls her face between her hands. Her smile is soft. Youngji has no expectations of people's reactions. The negative ones are there. She read a few of the articles -- and there were a few, tiny ones that Hara tried to hide from her. They talk about wedlock and it's, like, so stupidly archaic and people have even gone so far to approach both Namjoo and Hyeri about it. But her makeshift family AND her family are protective and instead of rejecting her, they've circled around her.

"Stop worrying," Seulgi tells her. "If they don't like you now, it's because they'll learn to love you later. And if they don't? That sucks. Because they're missing out."

Her voice is small. "I hope so."

"And," Seulgi continues, "the show looks great. Your photographs are amazing."

"You're only telling me that --"

Seulgi flicks her forehead, grinning.

"Shut up. Go wash your face, get dressed, and I'll sit here and man the area." She points to her laptop peeking out of her bag. "I've got to start writing the next episode anyway."

Youngji laughs, grabbing her dress to disappear to the background. She leaves Seulgi alone, listening to mutters of _bad romance_ and UGH they have to kiss and sometimes, she forgets that Seulgi has been writing dramas for years -- all _I_ ever wanted to write was crime procedurals, she always says. The truth is that her best friend is a softie and will never admit to it in a million years.

She shuts the office door behind her though, setting her dress out in front of her. She sighs because her body feels a little sore and she's wondering if she could convince one of the girls to help her stage an early exit tonight.

Her fingers start to unbutton her blouse. There's a knock on the door.

"Getting dressed!" she calls.

Instead, the door swings open and oh god, THANK GOD it's just Jackson and not Jackson's mom, or her mom with HIS parents and about a million different scenarios push forward in her head because look, it would totally happen to her this way. She watches all of Seulgi's dramas.

But it's just Jackson, staring at her like he's never seen her before. Her hands tremble. She tries not to show it, but then she realizes that she's already pulled her shirt off.

"Um."

Her eyes are wide. "Um."

"Your --" he coughs, rubbing the back of his head. She pulls her shift against her chest, to try and cover herself. "That's a lace bra," he says, _croaks_ , and then steps into the room, shutting the door behind him. "You're wearing a lace bra."

Her eyes are still wide, but his start to darken and he leans against the door. She swallows because he's watching her and she doesn't know what it means. His mouth twists and tilts and he lets out a shaky sigh.

"Do you always wear --"

"Yes," she blurts. "But ... why -- STOP looking at me like that!"

She waves her hands around and without thinking, drops her shirt.

"Where _else_ am I going to look," he says and then he takes a step forward, then another, and suddenly, she's sitting on the desk, he's between her legs, and it doesn't really matter who kissed who first, but his mouth is covering hers and he's kissing her deeply.

She makes a soft sound, then another as she finally lifts a hand and it twists in his hair. She kisses him like she's missed him and missed him _desperately_ , which is so terrifying to her. She's dizzy with need. His hand slides against her back, her _bare_ back, because something snaps and she doesn't have the presence of mind to grasp that oh god THAT'S her bra sliding off her shoulders.

"You can't _look_ at me like that," he breathes, against her mouth, his hand moving to the waist of her jeans. He pulls at the button. "It's trouble, you idiot."

It should be funny that they're fighting, well, sort of fighting and it's the most satisfying reaction for her ever. It's tangible, then, and she feels every bit of motion his hands give her -- on her neck, her throat, her mouth mouth against his and his gasp of _oh_ because she's pressed her hips forward and it's really going to happen again. This feels real.

"We shouldn't," she breathes, then laughs, her head falling back as his teeth skim her collarbone. "Yah -- _yah_."

"Shut _up_ ," he says.

Thank god it's an old office space and no, no, the walls are not paper thin. For once though, she lets herself slip and thinks about his hands, feels his hands, and just gives into the moment, this small, stupid moment.

Oh yeah. It's hormones.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Her mother meets his parents first. 

Jackson sticks with her as she makes rounds and meets a few people. She greets her friends and is surprised at the amount of crossover with his friends; turns out, even though they spend a lot of time glaring at each other, Seulgi is set to work with Jackson's actor friend JB. She knows that's not his real name because she saw a movie of his a long time ago and he's won some kind of award too.

But after they make rounds, he pulls her toward her mother and an older couple. She can feel her heart panicking in her chest and is grateful when his hand, suddenly, drops into hers.

"Breathe," he says. He grins a little.

Her head is spinning.

"I'm going to kill you," she mutters and he just winks. They're both thinking about what happened upstairs and his jacket draped against her shoulders is most DEFINITELY hiding a set of teeth marks that she bears near the straps of her dress.

There is something so disarmingly elegant about Jackson's mother. She's small, petite really, and when she turns, she greets her son with the biggest smile, hugging him first before turning to take her in.

She can feel the knots in her belly. Over Jackson's mother's shoulder, her own mother smiles at her gently. She forces herself to take a deep breath.

"Nín hǎo, mama," she greets shyly and next to her, Jackson looks at her in surprise. His mother laughs with delighted. Then clumsily, Youngji continues: "I'm so sorry," she says, taking the older woman's hands, "I'm trying to practice. I only know the basics."

"It's okay," his mother says. They switch to English and for that, Youngji's grateful. The woman studies her. "You look exhausted," she says. "Are you getting enough rest?"

"Trying to," she admits.

Jackson's father appears next to him. "Your work," he says, "it's -- it's really incredible."

She blushes. "Thank you."

Youngji forces herself to swallow. It takes her a minute to realize that she's let go of Jackson's hand. She needs to say it, she tells herself.

"I'm sorry," she says and her voice breaks, just a little, when she looks at both of his parents. "I -- I had this whole speech planned and my mind is blank and I just feel..."

Jackson's arm settles over her shoulder and he leans in, brushing his mouth against the side of her head. She hears it: _breathe_. She wants to kiss him again for it. Or kill him because, well, she's meeting his parents for the first time.

"I feel a little all over the place," she admits.

Jackson's mother laughs. "I remember what that was like." She's gentle. She pauses to look up at her husband, but then turns her gaze back to Youngji. "We don't want to take away from your night," she says. "And I wanted to see you, to at least learn a little bit more about you."

"I understand."

His mother smiles. "I'll admit," she says and Youngji feels Jackson's hand tighten around her shoulder too. "I was disappointed when I first heard the news, but ... you're family now. We'll all just have to grow together."

It's bewildering. No one's crying, no one's screaming, and no one hates each other. It's stupid too, but her eyes start to water and she can only nod quickly, trying to swallow back the lump in her throat.

You can't call a child a scandal, Hara had told her when she had found out. It's not fair. We'll protect you, Seulgi had said. Her mother had just wrapped her arms around her and told that she loved her and here, here, it starts to overwhelm her.

She manages dangerously close to autopilot, embarrassed that she and Jackson just kind of fell into it upstairs, full of self-loathing that she is struggling to accept and understand people's reactions to her, to the baby, to _them_.

"Thank you," she breathes, and Jackson's mother just smiles.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

"I bought one."

Jackson keeps her hand in his jacket pocket. He is walking her back to her apartment, after dinner with their parents, close enough to the gallery. She feels a little nervous again.

"Bought what?" she asks.

"A photograph," he says. "The airport one. Lost in Moscow, or whatever."

Youngji flushes, laughing a little.

"What?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm just trying to get used to everything and then ... well, upstairs."

"Oh."

He stops them, right in front of a shop. It's a bakery. She remembers because she had a craving the other day and there were the most INSANE chocolate muffins and all Namjoo could do was laugh because she ate about three of them and then proceeded to buy pork for lunch. She's smiling, maybe at the memory, and he pulls her chin up, if only to catch her attention again.

"I don't regret it," he says.

She scoffs. "You're a poet."

"I mean it." He ignores her and it almost amuses her. He doesn't relent to her and somewhere, somehow, she finds that really attractive and terrifying because she does. "And," his voice is dry, "I don't regret it earlier."

"That's nice." She pokes his chest. "And really cheesy."

He shrugs. "I'm cheesy."

Youngji laughs because it's stupid and he kind of gives her this look, this wide-eyed, amused _look_ that she's seen now, more than once, and it's something that she just kind of knows is hers. She's learning a lot, she tells herself. It's unnerving.

"I'm just glad," she says, "that -- I don't know. I always prepare for the worst, I guess. I've always been like that. I don't know how to explain it."

He shakes his head. "I'm not asking you to trust me yet." His expression changes and he's serious. Her eyes start to burn and he turns, leaning against the glass window of the bakery. His hands drop to his pockets and he's fidgeting. "But I'm not that guy," he says. "I've never been that guy and despite what everyone thinks, gold medals are just ... nice, I guess."

"And endorsements," she teases.

Jackson snorts. "Yeah, okay. I have a hat fetish. And a sneaker fetish."

She laughs.

"The point is," he says, "I want to do the right thing."

It's indescribable, the feeling of dread that suddenly hits her in the pit of her belly. She watches him as he drops his hands on her arms, then gently makes her take a step back. Her heart starts to race as he digs into his pockets, fumbling. He curses under his breath and she thinks oh god oh _NO_ as he pulls out a small, black box.

Then he drops to his knee.

Her eyes are huge. Her throat dries and he's not looking at her. She starts to reach for him.

"We should do the right thing."

Youngji can't find her voice.

"I know it's not perfect," he offers. His voice drops and he looks like he's struggling. "But I think -- let's get married."

Jackson looks so young this way, scared as anything, and the guilt that digs away at her is almost cruel. It starts to eat away at her. She forces herself to breathe in and out, her hands moving away from him and dropping to her belly.

Her answer is definite, unrelenting. 

"No," she says.

 

 

 

 

 

They spend the next few weeks in limbo, a weird forced limbo, where they dance around each other but don't mention the fact that there was a ring and he proposed, like proposed PROPOSED and even though she feels guilty for knowing that she had to, she did say no.

But promises are promises and she soon finds herself tearing her closet apart, packing for Hong Kong and listening to Seulgi and Hyeri fight over a sweater she can no longer wear because of her pregnancy.

Joy wraps an arm around her waist.

"How are you?"

She pauses, ignoring her closet. She leans back into the her friend, sighing.

"Terrible," she says. "And nervous -- mostly, I'm just regretting the fact that I ate my weight in nachos because SOMEONE had to watch a movie marathon."

Joy laughs when she looks back at Seulgi who, then, promptly flashes her the finger.

"Research," Seulgi mutters.

There's something in the air and it's making her crazy as it becomes more of reality when Namjoo breezes through her bedroom door, throwing her shoes to the side and her ID badge to follow, her hands going to hips.

She frowns. Then she points.

"When did he propose?"

Youngji's eyes are huge.

"Seriously, eonni," one of the other girls say. Most like it's Joy. She's the most rational out of all of them.

"Yeah," Seulgi agrees, "a little --"

"Finesse?" Hyeri supplies.

She looks around the room, pulling back from Joy and part of her wants to KILL them because she half-suspects -- no, absolutely not, they couldn't have known.

"He's going to propose to you again," Seulgi says. 

"I hate all of you," she mutters. She groans, grabbing a jacket and moving to sit in a chair. Her hands cover her face. "Seriously? You all knew?"

"He asked your mother first," Hyeri says. "Then he asked me when we ran into each other at that charity marathon."

"He crashed our cake tasting," Joy tells her. The other girls laugh and Joy shrugs. "Somehow," she says too, "it was kind of cute."

Namjoo and Seulgi both look at each other. A silent message passes between the two of them until finally, it's Namjoo that throws out the rock and Seulgi the paper.

Her best friend grins triumphantly. "You suck," she tells Namjoo, who sticks her tongue out. She turns to look back at Youngji, moving to her and kneeling on the floor. "He told us together," she says. "He was on a variety show at SBS. Bought us lunch. Said that you said no, but that he couldn't be mad because he would probably say no to himself too."

Youngji laughs softly, shaking her head. "Sounds like him," she agrees.

Namjoo moves to her too. "I get it," she says gently. "I don't think that he --"

"I just don't want him to resent me," she interjects and it comes out suddenly, almost as if she were nearing some kind of emotional breakdown. She feels a little shaky. It could be the pork she had for lunch.

But she sighs, throwing her jacket onto the bed. Her tickets are on her vanity table. Jackson is going to pick her up tonight and they'll ride to the airport together.

"We're having a baby," she says. Her hands rub her eyes. "It's really hard to come to terms with. It's like a reality that I have accepted and I'm struggling with, but ..."

She trails off, watching her friends watch her. They're all quiet, watching her with rapt attention. She looks grateful. She feels grateful. But then she knows that none of them are going to understand and that one person that she knows might close to it is Jackson, who she's going to go to Hong Kong with. Who she rejected.

"I can't marry him. Not like this," she says. "Not when I don't know him. Not when I just need to know that he's just as scared as I am."

"Don't you think he is?"

Hyeri moves to her, stepping around her chair. She pulls her hair loose and starts to braid it, just like when they were kids.

"Don't you think he's trying to protect you --" Namjoo scoffs and mutters something about watching too many of Seulgi's dramas. Youngji can only smile and Hyeri continues. "Like," she says. "Listen. It's not the most ideal situation, but it's your reality and I know that you're holding that over your head. I know you. You feel responsible. You're kicking yourself."

Youngji swallows. "Yeah."

"So don't you think he feels the same way? That he's trying to protect you just as much as you're trying to protect him?"

She's honest then, maybe the most honest she's been with herself since she fell into all of this. She repeats everything in her head like a mantra: you're pregnant, you're not alone, you can do this, _it's going to be okay_. She presses her hand against her belly, brushing it lightly over the fabric of her dress. She's grateful for summer, for the ease, and as sticky as everything feels, she is getting used to her body and these changes.

"I don't know," she confesses. "I think the answer terrifies me the most."

It's does matter who says it, but it's something that needs to be said. Hyeri finishes her braid and Namjoo tosses her vitamins in the suitcase.

"You should ask him then."

 

 

 

 

 

In Hong Kong, she comes to terms with the fact that she's going to be nearing the end of her first trimester and THAT is, like, a really big, scary deal to hold herself to.

It's not her first time, but it's the first time that she gets to stop, breathe, and look around. He holds her hand and points out stupid things like: "Oh, that place is FUCKING amazing!" and she laughs because it's the first time he's cursed in front of her and it's of course about food. She does silly, stupid things like buy baby clothes with his mom and learns that his dad has a photography hobby (they go out for a day and she hears stories about Jackson as a kid, hears more stories about his families, and sort of falls in love, then and there if she's honest) and goes and buys local groceries at local markets because she prefers to visit that way.

One day it's, like, really, really hot, and she's sticky and starting to be tired of being pregnant. He's holding her hand a little too tightly and honestly, when they stop in the antique shop, she really doesn't want buy a cradle that is a thousand years old and may have a baby ghost and seriously, what _even_. But Jackson is laughing, his arm moving around her shoulder as the owner continues to explain why they need to inflict the thousand year old baby ghost in their own kid's life. She's smiling, if only because Jackson is humoring the old woman and it's really sweet.

She realizes then and there, quietly, that she could love this man. It's a soft moment and she carries it with her, even when he kisses her forehead, even when she reminds herself that he hasn't pressed her since the first time he asked, but hasn't run away either.

Outside, he suggests walking to a coffee shop. She holds his hand tightly.

"Ask me again," she says and she means it, "Not right away." She tugs at his hand. "But some time soon."

His smile is brilliant. 

Youngji starts to breathe.


End file.
